GIFT  OF 
Class  of  1887 


AI>AMEDA.  March  S.— Funeral 
services  were  held  today  for  Mrs. 
Maria  F.  Rowe,  mother  of  Walter 
P.  Rowe,  San  Francisco  chiroprac- 
tor, and  J.  Roy  Rowe,  Oakland 
advertising-  man,  who  died  yester- 
day in  San  Francisco  after  a  lin- 
gering illness.  She  was  73  years 
old. 

A  native  of  Canada,  Mrs.  Rowe 
came  to  California  with  her  par- 
ents when  quite  young-,  and  spent 
her  girlhood  in  the  mining  regions 
of  Grass  Valley,  There  she  mar- 
ried James  E.  Rowe,  who  was  en- 
gaged in  mining. 

In  1889  she  moved  to  Alameda, 
where  she  spent  the  remainder  of 
her  Jife.  She  was  actively  affili- 
ated with  the  work  of  the  Women's 
Christian  Temperance  Union  here, 
us  well  as  a  leading  figure  in  the 
First  Methodist  church. 

Mrs.  Rowe  also  wrote  and  pub- 
lished several  valumes  of  poems, 
two  of  which  received  attention. 
£he  first,  entitled,  "The  White  City 
fn  the  Hills,"  had  Grass  Valley  as 
it's  inspiration,  and  is  still  quoted 
in  the  mining  town.  The  second 
was  "My  Soldier  Boy,"  and  was 
written  during  the  World  war.  The 
latter  piece  was  adopted  by  the 
W.  C.  T.  IT.  for  use  in  their  war- 
time literature. 

Beside  her  two  sons,  Mrs.  Rowe 
leaves  a  daughter,  Mrs.  Charles  S. 
Canfield  of  Alameda,  and  a  broth- 
er, Walter  «T.  Freeman  of  San 
Francisco.  James  E.  Rowe,  the 
husband,  died  30  years  ago. 

Services  were  conducted  from 
the  First  Methodist  church,  Cen- 
tral avenue  and  Oak  street,  Ala- 
meda, followed  by  interment  at 
Mountain  View  cemetery. 


THE 


MASTER'S  MESSENGER, 


OFJ, 


GOSPEL  TRUTHS  IN  RHYME. 


COLLECTION   OK   SPIRITUAL  SONGS  AND  SHORT  POEMS, 
PRINCIPALLY  DEVOTED  TO  THE  SUBJECT  OF 
SCRIPTURAL  HOLINESS. 


BY 

MRS.     M.     F\     R.OWE, 

GRASS  VALLEY,  CAL. 


San  Francisco  : 
.JOS.  WINTERBURN  &  CO.,  PRINTERS  AND  ELECTROTYPERS. 

1884. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  one  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  eighty-four, 

BY  MRS.  M.  F.  ROWE, 
in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


DEDICATION. 


TO   MY   ESTEEMED   FRIEND   AND  FORMER   PASTOR, 

REV.  GEORGE  NEWTON, 

LEADER    OF    THE    HOLINESS    WORK    ON    THE    PACIFIC    COAST, 
THIS   LITTLE   BOOK   IS   RESPECTFULLY   DEDICATED 
BY    HIS  CHILD   IN   THE   GOSPEL, 
M.     F\ 


671525 


INTRODUCTION. 


"  A  verse  may  find  him  who  a  sermon  flies, 
And  turn  delight  into  a  sacrifice." 

So  wrote  the  poet  Herbert,  and  Lowell  said: 
' '  Never  did  Poesy  appear 

So  full  of  heaven  to  Hie,  as  when 
I  saw  how  it  would  pierce  through  pride  and  fear 
To  the  lives  of  coarsest  men." 

So  goes  this  little  book,  on  a  mission  which  Poetry 
alone  can  accomplish,  a  work  for  the  good  of  man, 
for  the  glory  of  God,  a  work  of  love  in  the  warfare 
with  sin.  It  goes  with  many  a  prayer  that  God  will 
give  success,  prayers  sent  up  by  those  who  know 

' '  That  no  success  attends  on  spears  and  swords 
Unblest,  and  that  the  battle  is  the  Lord's." 

Dear  Reader,  may  you  be  lifted  nearer  the  throne 
by  the  persual  of  these  lines.  Remember  that  these 
are  not  sketches  of  the  fancy.  They  are  the  expression 
of  one  of  those  concerning  whom  it  is  written, 

"Poets  are  all  who  love — who  feel  great  truths, 
And  tell  them." 

M.  D.  BUCK. 
GRASS  VALLEY,  CAL.,  July  16,  1884. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

1.  DEDICATION -  3 

2.  INTRODUCTION,  by  Rev.  M.  D.  Buck,          ,-        -        -  5 

3.  THE  LITTLE  MESSENGER, 9 

4.  WALKING  IN  THE  LIGHT, n 

5.  REST, 13 

6.  THE  THREE  GIFTS, 15 

7.  SON  OB  SERVANT,  WHICH?           -                -        -  17 

8.  THE  CHILD'S  ANSWER, 19 

9.  SANCTIFIED  AND  SATISFIED, 21 

10.  THE  ANCHOR  WITHIN  THE  VEIL,      -        -        -        -  23 

11.  LIGHT  AND  DARKNESS,           -----  25 

12.  OUR  BABY, 28 

13.  TRUST, --30 

14.  ALL  FOR  HIM, 32 

15.  A  DAY  WITH  JESUS 33 

16.  THE  PRECIOUS  WORD, 35 

17.  THE  ANSWERED  PRAYER 36 

18.  SEEDS, 38 

19.  HE  CALLETH  FOR  THEE, 40 

20.  OUT  AND  UNDER,       -- 42 

21.  His  JEWELS, 44 

22.  ONLY  A  STEP, 47 


O  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

23.  CANAAN,    -  -  49 

24.  GEAVEN  ON  His  HANDS,  -        -        -        -  51 

25.  REFLECTED  LIGHTS, -  53 

26.  FEAR  NOT, 55 

27.  PEN  PICTURES, 57 

28.  THE  INDWELLING  LORD, 63 

29.  THE  KING'S  JEWEL, 65 

30.  His  WAY  is  BEST, 67 

31.  CHOOSING, 69 

32.  OUR  SUNSET  HOUR, 70 

33.  THAT  PERFECT  SONG, 72 

34.  EXCEEDING  GLAD,  -        - 75 

35.  POMEGRANATES  AND  BELLS,      -        -        -        -   '     -  76 

36.  FROM  SUFFERING  TO  GLORY,        -        ...  78 

37.  BUSY  HERE  AND  THERE, -  82 

38.  PRAISE, 84 

39.  TRUSTING;  FOR  WHAT  ? 87 

40.  CAN  No  ONE  Go  WITH  ME  ?  -        -        -  89 

41.  LEAVE  IT  THERE, 91 

42.  SHILOH, 93 

43.  FOLLOW  THOU  ME, ..94 

44.  HONORED  OF  THE  LORD,  96 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER, 


THE  LITTLE  MESSENGER. 

(~j-O,  little  messenger,  go, 
Quickly  and  quietly  go, 

Like  bird  on  wing. 
Tell  the  sweet  story  of  Love, 
Angels  first  came  from  above, 

Gladly  to  sing. 

Go  now,  and  gently  repeat, 
Promises  precious  and  sweet, 

All  may  believe. 
Tell  all  the  weary,  oppressed, 
Of  the  blest  freedom  and  rest, 

Jesus  will  give. 

Go  to  the  sorrowing  heart, 
Tenderest  comfort  impart 

In  Jesus'  name; 
Tell  of  bright  mansions  above, 
Tell  of  His  wonderful  love, 

Ever  the  same. 


JO  THE    MASTERS    MESSENGER. 

Go,  to  the  careless  ones  speak, 
Urge  them  the  Savior  to  seek, 

Now,  while  they  may; 
Erring  ones  faithfully  warn, 
Lest  they  His  message  still  scorn, 

And  farther  stray. 

. ;       • ,  ,     >  Speak;  and  the  wanderer  win ; 

And,  to  souls  burdened  with  sin, 

Lovingly  go. 

Tell  them  Christ's  blood  can  atone, 
Wash  the  dark  stains,  every  one, 

Whiter  than  snow. 

Go  to  the  tempted  and  tried, 
Tell  them  the  Savior  once  died 

Victory  to  give; 
They  who  in  Jesus  believe, 
May  of  His  fullness  receive, 

And  in  Him  live. 

Go,  little  book,  in  His  name, 
Whose  promise  still  is  the  same, 

His  cause  to  bless; 
And  if  some  souls  thou  shalt  win 
From  the  dark  pathway  of  sin, 

Great  thy  success. 


THE    MASTERS    MESSENGER. 


WALKING  IN  THE   LIGHT. 

(TUNE— Are  you  coming  home  to-night?"  Gospel  Hymns  No. 
311.)  I  John  1-7. 

/^RE  you  dwelling  in  the  sunshine  ? 

Are  you  walking  in  the  light  ? 
Have  you  been  to  Christ  for  cleansing, 
Are  your  garments  "  always  white  ?" 
Do  you  live  each  day  rejoicing 
In  His  presence  and  in  His  smile  ? 
Does  He  give  you  conscious  victory  ? 
Is  He  with  you  all  the  while  ? 

CHORUS. 

Are  you  walking  in  the  light  ? 
Are  you  walking  in  the  light  ? 
Have  you  fellowship  with  Jesus, 
Dwelling  in  His  sunshine  bright  ? 
Are  you  doing  all  His  will  ? 
Is  His  service  your  delight  ? 
Does  His  Spirit  ever  guide  you  ? 
Are  you  walking  in  the  light  ? 

Are  you  dwelling  in  the  sunshine  ? 
Though  around  the  clouds  may  lower, 
Though  the  tempter  ever  watching        ,    • 
Even  now  asserts  his  power; 


12  THE    MASTERS    MESSENGER. 

You  may  rise  above  the  shadows 
And  abide  in  sunshine  bright, 
You  may  conquer  Satan  always, 
If  you're  walking  inahe  light. 

Are  you  fully  consecrated, 
To  His  service  every  day  ? 
Do  you  follow  Him  each  moment, 
In  the  straight  and  narrow  way  ? 
Are  you  living  for  His  glory  ? 
Doing  all  things  in  His  might? 
Do  your  words  and  actions  witness 
That  you're  walking  in  the  light  ? 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  13 

BEST: 

"His  rest  shall  be  glorious!' — Isa.  1 1  :  10. 
(TUNE — "Come."     Gospel  Hymns  No.  309.) 

OH,  blessed  full  assurance; 

Oh,  rest  that  Jesus  gives, 
To  one  who  comes  for  cleansing, 
And  on  His  word  believes, 
Heart-sick  and  very  weary, 
With  doubts  and  fears  oppressed, 
I  claimed  his  precious  promise, 
And  He  hath  given  rest. 

CHORUS. 

Lord,  I  came  to  Thee,  gladly  came  to  Thee, 

Thou  didst  save  me  fully;  Thou  didst  make  me  free. 

Oh,  the  precious  flow!  yes,  I  feel,  I  know, 

Jesus'  blood  now  cleanses  and  makes  me  white  as  snow. 

No  evil  can  befall  me, 
Encompassed  by  His  love; 
And  in  severe  temptations, 
His  wondrous  power  I  prove. 
And  daily  I'm  rejoicing, 
My  heart  is  free  from  sin, 
How  can  I  wander  from  Him  ? 
My  Savior  reigns  within. 


14  .          THE   MASTERS   MESSENGER. 

Oh,  privilege  exalted, 

To  all  believers  given, 

That  while  on  earth  we  labor, 

We  live  prepared  for  heaven. 

What  more  could  Jesus  offer, 

To  souls  by  sin  oppressed, 

Than  what  His  death  has  purchased? 

A  glorious,  perfect  rest. 


THE    MASTERS    MESSENGER.  15 


THE  THREE  GIFTS. 

pULL  of  guilt  and  sadly  burdened, 

Weary,  all  undone, 
Came  I  to  the  Father,  asking 
Pardon  through  His  Son; 
Came,  a  prodigal,  repenting, 
With  my 'load  of  sin; 
He  forgave  me,  fully,  freely, 
Took  the  wanderer  in: 
Welcomed  me-with  great  rejoicing, 
He,  my  Lord  and  King, 
Placed  on  me  most  costly  raiments, 
On  my  hand,  His  ring. 


Full  of  vile,  inbred  corruption, 

Lord,  I  come  to  Thee, 

Asking  for  that  priceless  treasure; 

Spotless  purity. 

It  is  given.     O'er  me  freely 

Flows  the  crimson  flood; 

I  am  washed,  made  pure  and  holy, 

In  His  precious  blood. 

On  my  way  I  go,  rejoicing, 

Filled  with  love  and  praise, 

In  His  dear,  delightful  service, 

Spending  all  rny  days. 


16  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

Once  again  a  suppliant,  coming, 

Bowing  low  this  hour, 

Feeling  all  my  human  weakness, 

Asking  now  for  power. 

Power  to  keep  his  whole  commandment; 

Power  to  do  and  dare; 

Power  to  boldly  speak  for  Jesus, 

Praise  Him  anywhere; 

And  again  'tis  freely  given 

Even  while  I  call, 

While  I  claim  the  precious  promise, 

Plead  His  " shall"  and  "all" 


Pardon,  purity  and  power, 

Blessed  heaven  born  three, 

By  the  Father,  Son  and  Spirit, 

Given  unto  me . 

Was  a  better,  brighter  trio, 

E'er  to  mortal  given  ? 

On  unworthy  me,  bestowing 

Foretaste  sweet  of  heaven. 

Then  with  heart  and  voice  extolling 

Through  the  coming  days, 

Father,  Son  and  Holy  Spirit, 

Ever  will  I  praise. 


THE    MASTERS    MESSENGER.  1 7 


SON  OE  SERVANT,  WHICH  ? 

Luke  XV,  1 1  to  24. 

QH  yes,  you  have  heard  the  old  story, 

And  you  say  that  to  life  it  is  true, 
For  long  since  in  the  years  of  your  folly, 
You  once  was  a  prodigal  too. 
You  grew  weary  of  Satan's  hard  service; 
For  death  is  the  wages  of  sin, 
And  you  longed  to  return  to  your  Father, 
That  eternal  life  you  might  win. 

You  remembered  the  Father's  servants, 
With  abundance,  enough  and  to  spare, 
And  you  said,  "I  will  go  to  my  Father, 
That  I  may  of  their  portion  share.  " 
But  when,  on  the  way,  He  received  you, 
And  you  saw  His  forgiving  face, 
Then,  for  which  did  you  ask,  my  brother, 
A  son's  or  a  servant's  place  ? 

You  said,  "I  have  sinned  against  Him; 

I  so  long  have  withstood  His  grace; 

And  because  I  am  so  unworthy 

I  will  ask  for  a  servant's  place. 

I  will  serve  Him  with  fear  and  trembling, 

And  will  strive  to  faithful  be, 

That  at  last,  in  His  heavenly  kingdom, 

He,  perhaps,  will  remember  me. " 


1 8  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

The  Father  said,  "  Bring  the  bed  garment, 
Bring  shoes  for  the  travel  worn  feet, 
And  hasten,  prepare  a  great  supper, 
Of  the  choicest  and  richest  meat; 
And  let  us  rejoice  and  be  merry, 
Over  this  my  returning  one; 
The  dead  is  alive,  the  lost  is  found; 
Then  welcome,  my  dearly  loved  son.  " 

You  saw  all  these  marks  of  affection, 

You  knew  'twas  your  Father's  will 

You  should  share  in  His  love  and  His  riches, 

But  you  chose  the  servant's  place  still. 

And  all  these  long  years  you  have  served  Him 

With  trembling,  slavish  fear, 

You  have  mourned  o'er  your  many  failures, 

With  many  a  sigh  and  tear. 

Think  you  not  you  have  grieved  the  Father 

In  slighting  His  wondrous  grace  ? 

Do  you  think  you  have  honored  Him  greatly, 

In  choosing  a  servant's  place  ? 

Come  now  to  your  rightful  possessions, 

Accept  what  He  offers  to  you; 

Serve  no  longer  with  fetters  so  binding, 

But  with  filial  love,  strong  and  true. 

The  Father  so  tender  and  gracious 

Still  is  longing  His  child  to  embrace, 

He  knows  though  you  are  serving  Him  daily, 

You  are  not  in  your  rightful  place. 

He  has  blessings,  rich,  full  and  abiding, 

He  will  give  them  to  you,  every  one; 

Then  count  yourself  no  more  a  servant, 

But  an  honored  and  dearly  loved  son. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  19 


THE  CHILD'S  ANSWER. 

J)ID  you  get  a  letter  mamma  ? 
And  there's  black  around  it  too: 
Mamma,  who  did  write  that  letter 
And  send  it  here  to  you  ? 

So  I  told  my  little  daughter, 
Of  a  friend  I  loved  so  dear, 
And  of  all  the  pain  she  suffered 
Through  a  long  and  weary  year; 


"And  now,  my  little  Grade,". 

(And  I  smoothed  the  dark  brown  head) 
"  This  letter  comes  to  tell  me 

The  friend  I  love  is  dead." 


"  No,  she  is  not  dead,  dear  mamma, 
Why,  you  forget ',  you  know, 
Your  friend  is  now  with  Jesus, 
And  He  makes  her  white  as  snow." 


Again  unto  a  "  little  one," 
The  Master  has  revealed, 
What  from  the  older,  wiser  minds, 
Has  often  been  concealed. 


2O  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

Oh,  darling  little  three-year-old, 
How  little  do  you  know, 
The  wondrous  meaning  of  those  words, 
"  He  makes  her  white  as  snow." 

Yet,  precious  little  comforter, 
The  simple  words  you  say, 
Has  led  my  faith  beyond  the  tomb 
To  the  true  and  living  way. 

Oh,  when  we  part  with  loved  ones, 
In  the  valley  we  call  death, 
Could  we  look  beyond  the  shadows, 
With  Childhood's  simple  faith, 

We  would  hush  our  vain  repinings, 
And  our  tears  would  cease  to  flow, 
When  we  know  "  They  are  with  Jesus 
And  he  makes  them  white  as  snow/' 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  21 


SANCTIFIED  AND  SATISFIED. 

J  HAVE  been  to  Christ  for  cleansing; 

In  the  fountain  deep  and  wide, 
I  have  plunged;  His  Spirit  whispers, 

Sanctified. 

Now  my  heart  with  joy  is  singing, 
Dwelling  close  to  Jesus'  side, 
In  His  love  I'm  sweetly  resting 

Satisfied. 

Consecrated,  soul  and  body, 
For  His  service  set  aside, 
All  I  have  upon  the  Altar 

Sanctified. 

Taking  all  that  Jesus  offers, 
Every  needful  want  supplied, 
All  my  hopes  and  earnest  longings,' 

Satisfied. 

Emptied  all  my  sinful  nature, 

Hatred,  unbelief  and  pride, 

Self  all  conquered,  Jesus  keeps  me 

Sanctified. 

Filled  with  all  his  glorious  fullness, 
Wanting  nothing  else  beside, 
Loving,  trusting;  every  moment 

Satisfied. 
2* 


22  THE    MASTERS    MESSENGER. 

Satan  and  his  hosts  assail  me, 
In  my  Savior's  cross  I  hide, 
Hear  again  his  blest  assuiance, 

"Sanctified." 

Should  the  storms  of  life  o'ertake  me, 
Raging  sea  and  angry  tide, 
Christ  is  with  me,  still  I'm  resting 

Satisfied. 

Savior,  may  I  ever  linger 

Near  Thy  wounded,  bleeding  side, 

May  Thy  Holy  Spirit  keep  me 

Sanctified, 

Till  with  Thee  and  holy  angels, 
I  shall  ever  more  abide; 
'Till  I  wake  in  Thine  own  likeness, 

Satisfied. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  23 

THE   ANCHOK   WITHIN  THE  VEIL. 

Heb  .6,19.    (TUNE:"  Drifting  with  the  Tide. ' ' ) 

\^fE  are  out  upon  Life's  ocean, 

Driven,  helpless,  towards  the  shore; 
Dark  the  dreaded  storm-cloud  lowers, 
Loud  the  angry  billow's  roar. 
Hark !  the  breakers  are  before  us, 
As  we  drift  before  the  tide: 
Only  one  strong  Hand  can  save  us, 
He,  alone,  our  bark  can  guide. 

Cast  the  anchor,  sure  and  steadfast, 
Quickly  cast;  within  the  veil, 
Let  it  touch  the  Rock  of  Ages. 
Blessed  Rock,  that  ne'er  shall  fail. 

Just  before  there  lies  a  harbor, 
Wondrous  beautiful  and  fair, 
Thither  is  our  Pilot  steering, 
He  would  anchor  safely  there. 
Now  we  mount  the  foaming  billows, 
Now  the  raging  waves  o'er-whelm; 
Think  you  we'll  outride  the  tempest  ? 
Will  the  ship  obey  the  helm  ? 

Ah!  the  fog  and  mists  are  rising, 
And  the  harbor  fair  is  seen; 


24  THE    MASTER  S    MESSENGER. 

Smiling  skies,  and  rippling  waters 
Laving  shores  of  varied  green. 
But  the  cliffs  and  hills  surround  it, 
Standing  out  in  bold  relief. 
And  direct  across  the  entrance, 
Lies  the  sand-bar — Unbelief. 

Yet  there  is  a  narrow  channel, 

Leading  to  that  haven  blest, 

Where  the  weary,  storm-tossed  mariner, 

May  in  peace  and  safety  rest. 

But  the  heavy-laden  vessel 

Cannot  pass  that  narrow  strait; 

Cast  we  sin  and  self  behind  us, 

While  outside  the  bar  we  wait. 

Following  Faith's  blessed  cable, 
Soon  the  treacherous  bar  is  past: 
Now  we  join  the  gladsome  chorus, 
Praise  the  Lord !  in  port  at  last . 
Balmy  breezes  wafts  us  shoreward, 
Bright  and  clear  the  sky  above, 
This  is  perfect  rest  and  safety, 
Blessed  haven,  Perfect  love. 

Precious  Faith,  the  harbor  gaining, 
Blessed  Hope,  within  the  veil; 
Perfect  Love,  all  else  excelling, 
It  shall  never,  never  fail. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  25 


LIGHT    AND    DAEKNESS. 

f  And  God  divided  the  light  from  the  darkness  ."-Gen.  1:4. 
And  there  shall  be  no  night  there" — Rev.  22:5. 

JN  the  earliest  stage  of  creation, 

God  spake:  and  behold  it  was  light. 
Then,  in  His  omnipotent  wisdom, 
He  divided  the  day  from  the  night, 
And  by  His  own  word,  strong  and  mighty, 
lie  completed ^he  glorious  plan; 
And  last  in  that  wondrous  creation, 
Most  wondrous  of  all,  made  He  man. 


Man,  fresh  from  the  hand  of  his  Maker, 
Pure,  holy;  Jehovah's  delight, 
In  God's  glorious  image  created 
And  dwelling  in  His  own  light. 
This  was  his  estate:  but  too  quickly 
Came  Sin,  with  its  poisonous  breath, 
And  instead  of  the  sunshine  and  gladness, 
Was  sorrow  and  darkness  and  death. 


Ah!  who  can  describe  all  the  anguish, 
That  came  with  that  darkness  of  night  ? 
Yet,  through  the  thick  gloom  and  the  blackness, 
Came  a  gleam  of  God's  infinite  light; 


26  THE  MASTER'S  MFSSEXGER. 

That  gleam  brought  the  wonderful  promise, 
That  night  should  not  always  remain: 
Not  always  the  weeping  and  sighing, 
Not  always  the  anguish  and  pain. 

Still  the  shadows  and  light  intermingle 
O'er  each  page  of  the  sacred  word, 
Until  darkness  and  death  are  conquered 
At  the  tomb  of  a  risen  Lord. 
Yes;  our  Lord,  our  Light  has  arisen, 
Bringing  healing  and  peace  and  rest; 
But  men,  in  their  poor,  willful  blindness, 
Love  shadows  and  darkness  the  best. 

Long  since  had  His  glorious  brightness, 
Chased  the  shadows  and  darkness  away; 
Long  since  had  we  dwelt  in  His  presence, 
And  rejoiced  in  Millennium  day, 
Would  men  choose  light  rather  than  darkness, 
Would  they  yield  to  the  Father's  will; 
They  will  nol\  and  so  the  dark  shadows 
With  the  sunshine  are  mingling  still. 

There  is  no  path  uncrossed  by  the  shadows; 
No  brow  all  unclouded  by  care; 
No  life,  be  it  ever  so  joyous, 
But  some  sorrow,  some  darkness  is  there. 
Even  those  who  live  close  to  the  Master, 
Who  walk  in  His  own  blessed  light, 
Find  weariness,  suffering,  sighing; 
Find  the  shadows  of  death  and  of  night. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  27 

But  again  will  the  edict  be  sounded, 
And  night  will  no  longer  remain, 
Where  the  King  in  His  wondrous  beauty, 
In  His  power  and  His  glory  shall  reign. 
He  will  gather  the  mists  and  the  shadows, 
And  banish  them  far  from  His  sight; 
And  naught  that  offendeth  shall  enter 
That  city  where  cometh  no  night. 

Then  where  willow  be,  sister,  brother  ? 
Redeemed  by  His  blood  and  made  white, 
Or  banished  far,  far  from  his  presence, 
In  the  blackness  and  horror  of  night. 
Would  you  dwell  in  His  glorious  presence  ? 
In  His  sunshine,  resplendent  and  bright  ? 
Then  yield  now  your  heart  to  your  Savior, 
And  to-day  turn  from  darkness  to  light. 


28  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

OUK  BABY. 

(  Written  for  parents  who  have  parted  with  dear  little  ones.} 

|$HE  has  left  us,  little  darling, 

Gone,  with  all  her  baby  charms; 
Safe  and  happy,  her  sweet  spirit 
Dwelleth  in  the  Saviour's  arms. 

Laughing  bright  eyes,  closed  to  earth  love, 
Smooth  and  cold  the  marble  brow; 
Dimpled,  restless  little  fingers, 
Folded,  very  quiet,  now. 

Little  lips  so  sweet  and  rosy, 
Moaning  through  the  hours  of  pain, 
Silent  now;  so  white  and  waxen, 
Smile  upon  us  once  again. 

Darling,  precious  little  baby; 

Like  a  lily-bud  so  fair, 

Plucked  before  earth's  storms  could  blight  it, 

Safely  sheltered  'over  there.' 

Ah,  our  hearts  were  very  selfish, 
And  we  thought  her  ours  alone, 
'Till  the  Master  claimed  the  jewel; 
Only  took  what  was  his  own. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  29 

Yes,  our  tender,  clinging  earth  love, 
Fain  would  keep  her  always  here, 
We  would  make  this  world  our  heaven, 
Clasping  close  our  treasures  dear. 

But  the  Father  draws  us  heavenward, 
With  Love's  cord  of  silken  strands; 
One  end,  where  our  faith  can  grasp  it, 
The  other  held  by  baby  hands. 

Oh,  our  Father,  draw  us  gently, 
With  that  golden  cord  of  love; 
Lead  us  on  through  life's  dark  changes 
To  our  better  home  above. 


3O  THE    MASTERS    MESSENGER. 


TRUST. 

J  AM  learning  each  day  a  sweet  lesson 

Of  perfect  trust ; 
Not  blindly  obeying  the  Master 

Because  I  must, 

But,  leaning  my  head  on  His  loving  breast 
And  resting  content — for  He  knoweth  best. 

If  far  up  the  hillside  I  journey, 

Where  all  is  bright, 
Or,  in  the  dark  valley  I  linger 

And  see  no  light, 

In  sunshine  or  darkness  I  trust  Him  still; 
In  me  He's  fulfilling  His  own  perfect  will. 

He  showers  such  countless  blessings 

Along  my  way, 
He  shows  me  so  much  of  His  glory, 

While  here  I  stay, 

That,  trusting  in  Him  I  would  still  abide, 
Safe,  happy,  contented,  what  e'er  betide. 

'Tis  true  that  He  sometimes  sends  trials, 

But  they  are  small; 
And,  Oh,  the  sweet  joy  of  His  presence 

Out  weighs  them  all. 
And  safe  in  the  arms  of  His  love  I  rest, 
Content  that  these  trials  for  me  are  best. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  31 

Sometimes  the  tempter  assails  me 

With  doubts  and  fears, 
And  tells  of  the  sorrows  and  trials 

In  coming  years, 

Of  drought  and  famine,  of  heat  and  cold; 
Then  holds  up  the  world  with  its  glitter  and  gold. 

But  what  is  this  world  and  its  glory, 

To  Christ,  my  Lord  ? 
What  harm  can  befall  while  I'm  resting 

On  His  own  Word? 

His  wonderful  comforter  dwelling  within, 
Defies  all  the  powers  of  darkness  and  sin. 

Dear  Lord,  I  would  clasp  still  closer 

My  hand  in  Thine; 
Each  day  deeper  drink  of  the  fountain 

Of  love  divine. 
Then,  though  earth  clouds  gather  and  storms 

increase, 
I  am  kept  in  Thine  own  exceeding  peace. 


32  THE    MASTERS    MESSENGER. 


ALL  FOE  HIM. 

your  life  be  all  forjesur, 
Every  aption,  word  and  thought 
For  His  glory,  who  your  ransom 
With  such  fearful  sufferings  bought. 
All  for  Jesus?     Yes,  He  claims  all: 
Gladly  now  your  offering  bring; 
In  your  inmost  heart  enthrone  him; 
Let  Him  reign,  your  Lord,  your  King. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  33 


A  DAY  WITH  JESUS. 

gEGINNING  the  day  with  Jesus, 

Pausing  a  while  to  pray 
That  with  all  its  unknown  duties 
It  may  be  a  gladsome  day. 

Planning  the  work  for  the  morning; 
Knowing  each  hour  will  bring 
New  tasks,  which  I  take  so  gladly, 
Direct  from  the  hands  of  my  king. 

Giving  my  Master's  message 
To  one  who  has  grieved  Him  long, 
Cheering  the  weary,  sad  one, 
With  a  loving  word  or  a  song. 

Doing  all  things  for  His  glory; 
No  matter  how  great  or  how  small; 
Knowing  He  claims  every  service, 
Knowing  He  cares  for  it  all. 

Bringing  my  work  in  the  evening, 
Laying  it  down  at  His  feet, 
Praying  whatever  it  lacketh 
His  love  will  make  it  complete. 


34  THE    MASTER  S    MESSENGER. 

Ending  the  day  with  Jesus, 
When  alone,  I  my  Savior  meet, 
Like  the  tired  but  happy  children, 
I  rest  in  His  love,  so  sweet. 


This  is  a  day  with  Jesus; 
Thus  doth  He  lead  me  along, 
Through  the  beautiful  valley  of  blessing; 
The  valley  of  praise  and  of  song. 

And  I  pray  that  as  each  day  endeth, 
As  I  pause,  at  the  set  of  sun, 
Far  down  in  my  heart's  deep  center, 
I  may  hear  His  whisper  "Well  done." 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  35 


THE  PRECIOUS  WOKD. 

A  MOTHER'S  gift  to  her  darling  girl, 

In  the  Spring-time  of  her  life, 

When  hopes  are  bright  and  her  heart  is  light, 

And  the  future  with  joy  seemed  rife. 

'Twas  a  mother's  love,  chose  this  gift,  above 

All  others,  abiding,  sure; 

When  hopes  have  fled,  when  joys  are  dead, 

This  "  Word  "  shall  still  endure. 

Its  pages  shine,  with  light  divine, 

Leading  on  to  heaven  and  God; 

Its  precepts  bright,  will  guide  aright, 

In  the  way  all  saints  have  trod; 

Its  promises,  too,  all  proved  and  true, 

Are  wonderful,  precious  sweet. 

Then  let  it  guide,  and  what  e'er  betide, 

We  at  last  in  heaven  will  meet; 

'Tis  your  mother's  prayer  when  we  gather  there, 

You  may  stand  in  Christ  complete. 


36  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 


THE  ANSWERED  PRAYEK. 

[Two  little  brothers,  Edward  and  Casler  Boardman,  aged 
eight  and  five  years,  were  burned  to  death  at  their  home  in 
Nevada  City,  California,  July  24th,  1882.  They  had  been  put 
to  bed  by  their  mamma,  who,  leaving  them  in  charge  of  a  ser- 
vant, went  out  for  an  hour,  to  return  and  find  her  home  in 
flames,  and  her  little  ones  unrescued.] 

<<^"OW  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep," 

Mother  hear  your  dear  ones  praying; 
"  I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take/' 
Infant  lips  are  sweetly  saying. 
Oh,  how  soon  the  prayer  was  answered: 
One  short  hour  in  dreamland  sweet, 
Then,  with  saints  and  angels,  bowing 
Joyous  at  their  Savior's  feet. 

' '  Kiss  me  just  once  more,  dear  mamma/' 
Soft  white  arms  are  round  her  pressed, 

1 '  Now,  good-by,  until  the  morning;  " 
Mamma's  darlings  sweetly  rest. 
Rest  in  childhood's  blissful  slumber, 
Never  thought  of  danger  near, 
Soon  the  cruel  flames  are  raging 
Round  their  precious  forms  so  dear. 

One  short  step  from  earth  to  heaven, 
What  a  glorious  thought  is  this; 


THE    MASTER  S    MESSENGER.  37 

They  were  wakened  in  the  morning; 

By  an  angel's  loving  kiss. 

Darling,  loving  little  brothers, 

You  have  traveled  hand  in  hand, 

From  the  peaceful  dreams  of  childhood, 

To  the  blessed  glory  land. 

Can  we  murmur,  though  our  hearts 
Are  crushed  .and  bleeding,  lone  and  sad, 
When  we  know  their  ransomed  spirits 
Are  so  happy,  free  and  glad  ? 
Father,  we,  thy  sorrowing  children, 
Bow  submissive  to  Thy  will; 
Knowing  'tis  Thy  hand  that  chastens, 
"Tho'  Thou  slay,  we  trust  Thee  still." 


38  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

SEEDS. 

"  In  the  morning  sow  thy  seed,  "  Ecal.  I  x-  6. 

gEEDS,  seeds,  queer  little  seeds, 

What  are  they  good  for  ?  pray  tell ; 
Take  just  a  few,  so  tiny  and  round, 
Scatter  them  lightly  over  the  ground, 
Now  see  the  magical  spell. 
Up  into  sunshine,  quickly  there  springs 
A  wonderful  fairy,  with  tiny  green  wings, 
Out  of  each  little  black  shell. 
Down  in  the  earth  goes  a  little  white  root, 
Up  in  the  air  comes  a  wee  little  shoot, 
Catching  the  sunshine  and  dew. 
Stretching  so  eagerly  up  to  the  light, 
Nodding  and  bobbing  so  pretty  and  bright, 
Till,  between  me  and  you, 
Tis  strange,  but  'tis  true, 
Golden  grain  or  else  weeds, 
Have  grown  from  those  little  wee  seeds. 

Words,  words,  only  just  words, 

Spoken  so  careless  and  free; 

But  children  think,  count  well  the  cost, 

A  word  once  spoken  cannot  be  lost, 

Though  cross  or  pleasant  it  be. 

Spoken  in  anger,  brings  sorrow  and  pain; 

Spoken  in  love,  Oh,  the  infinite  gain ! 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  39 

With  either  the  harvest  you'll  see. 
Guard  then  your  words;  speak  them  with  care; 
Of  idle,  proud,  lying,  profane  words,  beware, 
They  bring  a  sure  crop  of  weeds. 
Earnest,  brave,  cheerful  words,  faithful  and  true, 
Kind,  gentle,  helping  words,  loving  words,  too, 
These  are  bright  little  seeds, 
Which,  if  followed  by  deeds, 
Like  sweet  flowers  will  grow, 
Sending  gladness  where  ever  they  go. 


40 


HE  CALLETH  FOE  THEE. 

" The  M.ister  is  corns,  and  calleth  for  thee ." — John  xi : 28 . 

]-|  E  calleth  for  thee. 

Yes,  Christian,  He  calls  thee,  thy  vows  to  renew; 
He  calls  thee  to  service,  whole-hearted  and  true; 
He  calls  thee  all  things  for  His  glory  to  do. 

He  calleth  for  thee. 

He  calleth  for  thee. 

He  may  call  to  pastures  where  still  waters  flow, 
Where  sunbeams  are  sparkling  and  sweet  flowers  grow, 
He  mayczl},  perchance,  where  the  storm  clouds  bend  low. 

Yet  he  calleth  for  thee. 

He  calleth  for  thee. 

Wilt  thou  fellow  Him  fully,  thy  Lord,  crucified, 
In  His  own  perfect  love  to  rest  and  abide, 
Ever  heeding  His  voice,  pressing  close  to  His  side, 

When  He  calleth  for  thee  ? 

He  calleth  for  thee. 

Now  hasten,  Oh,  Christian,  thy  Master  to  meet, 
Bringing  all  thy  possessions  to  lay  at  His  feet, 
And  accept  His  salvation,  full,  perfect,  complete, 

As  He  calleth  for  thee. 

He  calleth  for  thee. 

Though  now  in  the  desert  of  sin  thou  dost  roam, 
He  is  waiting  to  welcome  thee  now  to  thy  home. 
Yes,  sinner,  to-day  the  dear  Master  is  come 

And  calleth  for  thee. 


THE    MASTERS    MESSENGER.  41 

He  calleth  for  thee. 

Many  times  has  he  called;  in  thy  childhood  bright, 
And  often,  so  often  in  silence  of  night, 
In  soft  gentle  whisper,  in  power  and  in  might, 

He  hath  called  for  thee. 

He  hath  called  for  thee, 

When  Death's  fingers  were  laid  on  one  loved  the  best, 
Perhaps  'twas  a  mother,  or  the  babe  at  thy  breast, 
Thou  did'st  hear  a  low  voice  as  she  passed  to  her  rest, 

"He  calleth  for  thee." 

He  calleth  for  thee. 

Hast  thou  answered  the  call  ?  Why  longer  delay  ? 
Why  turn  from  His  love  and  His  mercy  away  ? 
Oh,  come  to  Him  now,  for  even  to-day 

He  calleth  for  thee. 

He  calleth  for  thee. 

'Tis  the  very  last  summons:  though  often  before 
He  has  called  thee  in  love,  He  will  call  thee  no  more. 
The  Master  is  gone,  'tis  the  Judge  at  the  door, 

And  He  calleth  for  thee. 

He  calleth  for  thee. 

And  meet  Him  thou  must,  thou  can'st  not  evade; 
But,  if  on  thy  Savior  thy  sins  are  all  laid, 
Thou  can'st  meet  Him  with  joy,  and  go  undismayed 

When  He  calleth  for  thee. 


42  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

OUT  AND  UNDER. 

(TUNE:  "  Only  an  Armor  BearerJ"  Gospel  Hymns,  No.  82.) 

QUT  on  the  promises,  boldly  I  stand, 

Jesus'  own  promises,  Oh,  they  are  grand; 
Out  on  the  promises,  under  the  blood, 
Cleansed  and  made  pure  in  that  blest  crimson  flood. 
Glorious  Salvation,  so  full  and  so  free ! 
Glory  to  Jesus,  He  sanctifies  me. 

Out  on  the  promises;  wonderful,  sure; 

His  own  precious  word,  it  for  aye  shall  endure; 

Under  the  blood,  its  bright  glory  I  see, 

Just  now,  in  its  power,  it  flows  over  me. 

Praise  Him,  Oh  praise  Him;  the  Savior  is  mine, 

Glorious  fullness  of  love  all  divine. 

Out  on  the  promises,  faithful  and  true, 
Out  where  His  Spirit  my  heart  can  renew. 
Under  the  blood :     Oh,  the  estatic  bliss ! 
Surely  a  foretaste  of  heaven  is  this. 
Are  greater  joys  known  to  angels  above  ? 
A  sinner  redeemed  by  His  infinite  love. 

Out  from  the  world,  its  allurements  and  snares, 
Out  from  jny  doubtings,  my  fears,  and  my  cares, 
Under  His  shadow  securely  to  rest, 
Led  by  His  hand  who  loves  me  the  best. 
Blessings  and  mercies  o'erwhelm  as  a  flood, 
While  out  on  the  promises,  under  the  blood. 


THE   MASTER  S   MESSENGER.  43 

Out  on  the  promises,  doing  His  will, 
Looking  to  Him  His  own  word  to  fulfill, 
Under  the  blood,  where  the  blest  precious  flow, 
Washes  and  keeps  me,  "e'en  whiter  than  snow/' 
Ever  I'll  praise  Him,  all  glory  to  God, 
I'm  out  on  the  promises,  under  the  blood. 


44  THE    MASTER  S   MESSENGER. 


HIS  JEWELS. 

And  they  shall  be  mine,  —  When  I  make  up  my  /ewels.- 
Mal.  3-17. 


E  were  sitting  together  at  twilight, 
'Twas  the  hour  we  met  to  pray, 
Just  a  few  young  girls  who  had  started,. 
Together  the  heavenly  way, 

But  two  of  our  number  were  absent, 
Sweet  Ella  and  Inez  fair; 
I  glanced  at  their  places  and  wondered, 
Why  they  should  fail  to  be  there. 

And  we  sat  and  talked  in  the  gloaming 
Till,  down  through  the  quiet  skies, 
Came  a  voice  of  such  wonderful  sweetness,. 
It  filled  us  with  mute  surprise. 

We  knew  'twas  the  voice  of  the  Master, 
Who  once  walked  by  Galilee, 
As  with  accents  gentle  and  tender, 
He  whispered,  "  Lovest  thou  me  ?  " 

I  listened  to  hear  the  quick  answer, 
"  Yea,  Lord;  ihou  knowest  I  do;  " 
Addie,  loving,  but  timid, 
Mary,  faithful  and  true, 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.   ,  45 

Lillie,  so  strong  and  courageous, 
Clara,  so  quiet  and  grave, 
Each  one,  in  the  gathering  shadows, 
The  very  same  answer  gave. 

Again  came  the  voice  of  the  Master; 
"  How  long  will  you  faithful  be  ?  " 

And  again  we  answered  Him  gently, 
"  Until  death,  I  will  follow  Thee." 

Then  down  through  the  shadowy  stillness, 
Like  a  grand,  exulting  strain, 
So  tender,  so  full  of  gladness, 
Came  that  wonderful  voice  again. 

"  Then  you  are  mine,  my  jewels; 
Now  and  forever  more; 
And  when  I  come  in  my  glory, 
These  gems  shall  my  crown  adore. 

I  listened  again  for  His  message, 
So  real  did  it  all  seem, 
I  woke  in  surprise; — it  was  morning, 
And  behold,  it  was  only  a  dream. 

Many  years  have  passed  since  I  dreamed  it, 
Yet  memory  brings  it  again; 
It  comes,  like  a  low,  sweet  cadenze, 
Like  a  beautiful,  glad  refrain. 


46  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

I  think  of  those  young  friends,  who  gathered 
Together,  at  evening  to  pray; 
Do  they  still  follow  close  by  the  Master  ? 
Are  they  now  in  the  narrow  way  ? 

Ah,  yes,  they  are  still  "  His  jewels/' 
They  still  His  commands  obey, 
The  Master,  so  loving  and  gentle 
They  are  following,  day  by  day. 

Sometimes  they  follow  Him  sadly, 
With  faltering  steps  and  slow; 
Sometimes,  all  filled  with  His  gladness, 
On  their  homeward  way  they  go. 

But  two  of  the  number  beloved 
Have  crossed  o'er  the  swelling  tide; 
Dear  Ella  and  Inez  so  gentle, 
In  His  glorious  presence  abide. 

In  different  parts  of  His  vineyard, 
The  others  are  laboring  still; 
To  win,  by  their  love  for  Jesus, 
Other  souls  to  obey  His  will. 

At  last  may  the  band  unbroken 
Meet  around  His  great  white  throne, 
And  hear  His  glad,  glad  welcome 
To  His  jewels,  His  loved,  His  own. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  47 


ONLY  A  STEP. 

Behold  the  Lord  thy  God  hath  set  the  land  before  thee.f  go 
up  and  possess  it.  Deut.  1-21. 

TT  is  '  only  a  step '  into  Canaan, 

Then  why  do  you  idly  stand  ? 
You  are  waiting  just  now  on  its  borders, 
You  are  viewing  the  "  promised  land.  " 
The  land  which  was  long  ago  given 
To  Abraham,  faithful  and  true; 
The  land  which  by  faith  we  inherit, 
"  Just  over  the  line,  "  waits  for  you. 

You  have  eaten  the  "  heavenly  manna, " 
Its  taste  is  both  pleasant  and  sweet, 
You  have  drank  of  the  "  Rock  "  Christ  Jesus, 
That  has  followed  your  wandering  feet; 
But  this  is  a  land  of  plenty, 
Abounding  in  corn  and  wine; 
Say,  will  you  not  cross  its  borders  ? 
"  One  step  "  and  it  all  shall  be  thine. 

You  have  wandered  long  years  in  the  desert, 
You  have  grieved  your  dear  Lord,  day  by  day,. 
You've  murmured,  rebelled  and  forsook  Him, 
You  have  tried  every  way  but  His  way. 
Are  you  tired  of  sin  and  its  sorrow  ? 
Do  you  earnestly  long  to  be  blest  ? 
Then  come  unto  Him  who  has  promised 
"  I  will  give  to  the  weary  ones  rest.  " 


48  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

Take  Christ  as  your  perfect  salvation; 
Believe:  you  shall  surely  be  blest; 
Just  take  all  that  Jesus  has  promised, 
Just  enter  this  land  of  sweet  rest. 
Then  fear  not  the  strong,  walled  cities, 
And  fear  not  the  "  Anakims  "  tall, 
Our  "  Joshua  "  goeth  before  us, 
Our  "  Jerichos"  surely  shall  fall. 

'Tis/ai/h  that  obtains  the  possession, 

By  faith  we  are  kept  on  our  way; 

Just  trusting  Him  moment  by  moment, 

Brings  victory  day  after  day. 

Praise  God  for  this  beautiful  soul  rest, 

From  inward  polution  set  free; 

Praise  God  for  this  wondrous  salvation 

Christ  has  purchased  for  you  and  for  m  e. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  49 


CANAAN. 

years,  two  years  in  Canaan; 
Such  happy,  happy  years, 
So  free  from  sin's  defilement, 

So  free  from  doubts  and  fears. 
Oh!  wondrous  glories  that  round  me  shine! 
The  peace  and  joy, 
Without  alloy ! 
And  the  perfecfrest  that  is  mine,  is  mine! 

I  see  each  day  new  beauties, 
In  this  fair,  glorious  land, 
Its  peaceful  rivers  flowing 

O'er  bright  and  golden  sand. 
Its  lofty  mountains;  its  valleys  fair, 
Where  flowers  sweet, 
Around  my  feet, 
Fling  a  rich  perfume  on  the  balmy  air. 

The  happy  birds  are  singing 

In  ever  fruitful  trees, 
And  low,  sweet  music  floating 

On  every  passing  breeze. 
Quiet  mountain  shadows  cross  the  plains, 
While  sunbeams  gleam, 
On  fount  and  stream, 
And  beauteous  spring  in  this  land  remains. 


5°  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

Its  fruits  are  rare  and  lucious, 

Abounding  everywhere; 
And  clear,  health-giving  fountains 

Are  springing  freely  there. 
It  has  treasures  whose  value  has  ne'er  been  told; 
The  unfathomed  mines 
With  rich  ore  shine, 
Exceeding  the  far-famed  Ophir's  gold. 

Much  land  is  still  before  me, 

And  daily  I  explore 
Its  rising  hills  and  mountains 
And  scan  its  beauties  o'er. 
The  King  of  the  land  is  my  chosen  friend; 
We  often  meet 
In  communion  sweet, 
To  tell  o'er  the  joys  that  will  never  end. 

No  more  is  He  "  Baali,"  (Hos.  2:16.) 

My  Master  and  my  Lord, 
'Tis  "Ishi"  now  I  whisper, 
A  more  endearing  word. 
Such  wonderful  gifts  He  on  me  bestows; 
His  own  sweet  voice 
Bids  me  still  rejoice, 
While  with  His  pure  love  my  glad  heart  glows. 

Yes,  two  bright  happy  years 
In  Canaan  have  I  spent, 
And  still  would  I  continue 

In  this  blest  land  content. 
Where  my  dear  Redeemer  prepares  my  way, 
Where  glory  sublime 
O'er  all  doth  shine, 
Yes,  here,  dear  Lord,  would  I  ever  stay. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 


GRAVEN  ON  HIS  HANDS. 

"  Behold,    I  have  graven  thee  upon  the  palms   of  my 
hands. — Isa  49-16. 

gOUNDING  from  the  sacred  pages, 

Lo,  a  promise  sweet  I  hear; 
'  Tis  the  Master's  gracious  accents : 
"  I  am  with  thee,  do  not  fear. 
Thou  shalt  not  forsaken  be; 
On  my  hands  I've  graven  thee." 

On  His  hands!  Oh,  love  most  wondrous! 

Does  He  show  such  love  to  me  ? 

On  those  hands,  once  torn  and  bleeding, 

Can  my  name  engraven  be  ? 

By  His  holy  word  He's  spoken, 

And  that  word  cannot  be  broken. 

Yes,  the  cruel  nails  once  piercing, 
Those  dear  hands,  so  blessed,  fair, 
And  the  crimson  streams,  outgushing, 
Set  the  seal  forever  there : 
Now,  behold  Him,  as  He  stands, 
With  my  name  upon  His  hands. 

Loving  hands:  so  sinless,  spotless, 
Gentle,  tender,  great  in  power, 
Filled  with  blessings,  rich,  abundant, 


THE   MASTER  S    MESSENGER. 

Freely  given  every  hour: 

I  may  claim  their  constant  care, 

For  my  name  is  graven  there. 

Then  why  should  I  fear  or  falter  ? 

He  is  with  me  everywhere, 

Guides  my  feet  in  pleasant  pathways. 

Guards  with  more  than  mother's  care; 

Always,  evermore  the  same, 

On  His  hands  He  bears  my  name. 

Through  the  "  valley  of  the  shadow/' 
He  will  lead  to  mansions  bright; 
I  shall  dwell  with  His  redeemed  ones, 
Clad  in  garments  clean  and  white; 
Faultless  in  His  sight  I'll  stand, 
I  am  graven  on  His  hand. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  53 


BEFLECTED  LIGHT. 

king  of  day  is  departing, 
In  clouds  of  crimson  and  gold, 
O'er  all  the  glad  earth  reflecting 
His  glory  and  beauty  untold. 

I  stand  by  the  window,  watching 
All  nature  retire  to  rest; 
While  over  all  spreads  that  banner 
Of  crimson,  unfurled  in  the  west. 

The  sky  flushes  bright  and  brighter. 
Then  fades  to  a  pale  rose  pink, 
As  low  in  the  horizon  dropping, 
The  sun  into  rest  doth  sink. 

And  now  in  the  fading  splendor 
I  see  a  faint  light  afar, 
Then  bright  on  my  vision  flashes 
The  beautiful  evening  star. 

Yes,  there  in  the  paling  crimson, 
A  beautiful  beaming  light; 
Fair  token  of  day  departing, 
Bright  herald  of  coming  night. 

Its  beams  shine  so  calm  and  steady,. 
Yet  still  with  a  radiance  bright, 
How  can  a  thing  of  such  beauty 
Be  only  reflected  light  ? 


54  THE    MASTER  S    MESSENGER. 

The  glorious  sun  has  departed, 
His  bright  rays  no  longer  I  see, 
Yet  somewhere  I  know  he  is  shining, 
This  star  shows  his  beauty  to  me. 

From  thee  will  I  learn  a  lesson 

Oh,  beauteous  evening  star; 

Bright  shining  through  darkening  shadows, 

And  sending  thy  beams  afar. 

My  glorious  King  in  His  beauty 
The  world  cannot,  will  not  see, 
Tis  only  in  His  true  disciples 
His  light  will  reflected  be. 

Then  let  me  reflect  for  His  glory, 
Pure  and  unsullied  rays; 
Perchance  some  one  sadly  watching, 
My  Lord  will  behold  and  praise. 

Though  others  may  shine  far  above  me, 
In  radiance  all  their  own, 
Be  it  mine  to  keep  close  to  my  Master, 
And  shine  in  His  light  alone. 

Shine  out  through  mists  and  shadows, 
Shine  brightly  while  yet  I  may, 
Till,  in  the  fair  courts  of  His  glory, 
I  shine  as  a  sun  for  aye. 


THE    MASTERS    MESSENGER.  55 


FEAR  NOT. 

Fear  not  little  flock, 

'Tis  your  Father's  good  pleasure 

To  give  you  the  kingdom. 

That  wonderful  treasure, 

Longed  for  and  expected 

By  prophets  and  sages; 

But  from  them  withheld 

Through  long,  weary  ages. 
That  treasure  is  yours,  God's  own  Holy  Spirit 
Enthroned  in  the  heart;  this  do  we  inherit. 

Fear  not  little  flock, 

Though  dark  the  storm  lowers, 

Though  weary  the  way, 

All  shorn  of  bright  flowers; 

His  spirit  within  you 

Shall  make  all  things  bright, 

Shall  comfort  and  bless  you, 

And  guide  you  aright. 

He  lightens  the  pathway,  dispels  all  the  gloom, 
Makes  long  barren  deserts  with  verdure  to  bloom. 

Fear  not  little  flock, 
Though  tempted  and  tried, 
Though  the  world  may  forsake 
And  friends  may  deride, 


56  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

Though  taunted  and  scorned, 

Though  suffering  loss, 

He  suffered  far  more, 

Who  once  died  on  the  cross. 
The  comforter  promised  shall  be  with  you  still; 
All  things  work  for  good,  though  it  now  seemeth  ill. 

Fear  not  little  flock, 

'Tis  your  Father's  good  pleasure 

To  give  you  all  peace, 

And  joy  without  measure, 

"  Ye  all  shall  be  mine/' 

The  Master  has  spoken, 

His  immutable  word 

Can  never  be  broken. 
Fear  not  little  flock,  to  you  shall  be  given 
All  needful  on  earth,  and  the  glories  of  heaven. 


THE    MASTERS    MESSENGER.  57 


PEN    PICTURES. 

[  Written   for  the  Nevada   County  Sunday  School  Convention, 
October  2,  1884.] 

pRIENDS  and  teachers:  To  me  has  been  given  a  task. 

Why  so  ?  do  you  ask  ? 
To  address  this  intelligent  body  in  rhyme ! 
Believe  me,  I  have  had  such  a  time, 

To  choose  a  fit  subject. 
But  to-day  if  once  more 

You  will  children  become, 
And  with  children's  interest  in  any  thing  new, 
WiU  patiently  wait,  I  will  bring  to  your  view, 
Some  pictures,  perhaps  seen  before. 
And  if,  in  my  efforts  to  thus  entertain, 
I  strengthen  some  half-formed  purpose  to-day, 
Or  cheer  some  soul,  weary-grown  in  the  way, 
My  endeavor  will  not  be  in  vain. 


I. 

Crowding  to  their  places, 
On  the  Sabbath  day, 
Happy,  boyish  faces,          * 
Eyes,  blue,  black  and  gray. 
Listening  while  the  teacher, 
In  earnest  tones  and  grave, 


58  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

Tells  again  the  story, 
How  Jesus  came  to  save. 
Now  strangely  awed  and  silent,* 
Now  bubbling  over  with  fun; 
Such  restless,  roguish  mortals! 
Ihis  is  picture  number  one. 


II. 

Now  alone  in  secret  pleading, 

With  the  Father  interceding, 

For  the  precious  souls  entrusted  to  her  care, 

That  His  love  would  ever  guide  them, 

That  no  evil  should  betide  them, 

This  the  theme,  the  burden  of  the  teacher's  prayer. 

Laboring  on,  though  daily  feeling 

Pain  and  langour  o'er  her  stealing, 

Knowing  well  her  earthly  race  will  soon  be  run; 

Eyelids  closed  and  hands  at  rest, 

Folded  o'er  the  quiet  breast, 

And  the  faithful  teacher's  work  of  love  is  done . 


III. 

In  a  home  of  wealth  and  splendor, 
See,  a  little  sufferer  lies, 
While  human  skill  and  wisdom, 
With  each  other  vainly  vies; 
And  loving,  sorrowing  parents 
Are  watching  night  and  day, 
Till  at  last  the  blue  eyes  open, 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  59 

And  they  hear  their  darling  say: 
"No,  you  cannot  help  me,  mamma, 

You  do  not  know  the  way, 

I  am  passing  through  the  valley, 

But  beyond  is  endless  day; 

'Twas  my  own  dear  teacher  told  me, 
'Jesus  bids  the  children  come/ 

Now,  His  arms  are  round  me,  mamma, 

He  will  carry  Willie  home." 


IV. 

The  canvas  turns,  and  before  our  view, 

Is  a  picture  not  altogether  new: 

A  place  where  laughter  and  curses  mingle, 

Where  lights  are  flashing  and  glasses  jingle; 

I  see  in  the  throng  a  young  boy  stand, 

With  a  sparkling  wine-cup  in  his  hand; 

But  see,  as  he  raises  it  to  his  lip, 

Why  that  start,  e'er  he  takes  the  fatal  sip  ? 

From  that  glittering  glass  there  seems  to  rise, 

A  sweet,  pure  face,  with  such  earnest  eyes, 

And  he  hears  again  the  words  she  said, 

Look  not  on  the  wine  when  'tis  bright  and  red: 

For,  hidden  deep  in  that  sparkling  thing, 

Is  the  serpent's  bite  and  the  adder's  sting." 

Untasted  he  dashes  the  glass  away, 

And  turns  from  the  place  without  delay, 

And  broken  far  aye  is  the  tempter's  snare; 

This  night  is  answered  the  teacher's  prayer. 


60  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

V. 

Far  away  beyond  the  ocean, 
Under  burning,  torrid  skies, 
Where  graceful  palms  are  growing, 
Where  sunny  streams  are  flowing, 
While  around  the  mountains  rise; 
Here,  in  earnest,  youthful  vigor, 
-Counting  earthly  gain  but  loss, 
Now  his  childhood  lessons  heeding, 
In  the  Spirit's  power  pleading, 
Stands  a  herald  of  the  cross. 
He  has  heard  the  grand  commission, 
The  "  Go  ye,"  of  his  Lord, 
And  joy  his  heart  is  swelling, 
While  to  darkened  minds  he's  telling, 
All  the  wonders  of  His  word. 


VI. 

Take  my  voice  and  let  me  sing, 

Always,  only  for  my  King.3' 

Soft  and  slow  with  a  musical  flow, 

Fall  the  words  on  the  ears  of  a  listening  throng. 

Over  again,  hear  the  sweet  refrain; 

Oh,  great  is  the  power  of  sacred  song  ! 

In  that  manly  face  you  can  surely  trace, 

The  boy,  who  once  needed  a  teacher's  prayer; 

Now  his  mission  bright,  his  great  delight, 

To  cheer  hearts  heavy  with  sorrow  and  care. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  61 

Angels  rejoice  when  that  earnest  voice 
Rings  out  for  God  in  glad  service  given; 
When,  clear  and  strong,  it  floats  along, 
Guiding  souls  in  the  way  of  right  and  heaven. 

VII. 

Tis  a  dark  and  dreary  picture, 
Where,  behind  the  prison  bars, 
A  gray  haired  man  is  sitting 
Deeply  marked  by  sin's  d#rk  scars; 
And  dark  despair  seems  written 
On  that  once  noble  brow, 
As  memory,  backward  pointing, 
Compares  the  then  with  now. 
But  amid  the  gloom  and  sadness, 
Comes  a  whisper  soft  and  low; 
\Vords  he  heard  in  happy  childhood; 
;  Crimson  shall  be  white  as  snow ." 
And  the  Holy  Spirit  knocking 
At  that  door  so  long  shut  fast, 
Through  the  teacher's  lifelong  influence 
Has  an  entrance  gained  at  last . 

VIII. 

There  remaineth  yet  one  more  picture, 

But  my  pen  refuses  to  trace 

The  glory,  the  beauty,  the  brightness 

Of  that  bless'd  heavenly  place, 

Where  that  teacher  stands,  crowned,  rejoicing, 


62  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

While  the  glad  hallelujahs  ring, 
And  presents  her  class  unbroken, 
To  her  glorified  Lord  and  King. 

*  *  *  * 

By  and  by,  when  we  too  shall  gather, 
In  those  heavenly  mansions  so  fair, 
And  with  the  blood-washed,  redeemed  ones, 
We  shall  in  the  triumphs  share, 
Methinks,  amid  all  the  rejoicing, 
It  will  most  glorious  be, 
To  say,  "  Here  am  I,  blessed  Master, 
And  the  class  Thou  didst  give  to  me." 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  63 


THE  INDWELLING  LOUD, 

"And  the  Lord  whom  you  seek  shall  suddenly  come  to  his  temple? ' 
Mai.  3:1. 

COME,  blessed  Lord  to  Thy  temple, 

This  is  my  prayer,  my  plea, 
Come  to  the  heart  that  awaits  Thee, 
Come,  Lord,  abide  now  with  me. 
Come,  in  Thy  glorious  beauty, 
Come,  every  doubt  to  dispel, 
Come  and  with  sweet  tender  accents 
Whisper,  "  my  child,  all  is  well." 

Long  was  Thy  temple  denied, 
Tarnished  and  darkened  with  sin; 
Lord,  I  would  have  it  made  holy, 
Spotless  and  glorious  within. 
Cast  out  are  now  all  the  idols, 
Never  to  enter  again; 
Cleanse  by  Thy  blood  precious  Savior, 
Enter,  and  evermore  reign. 

Lord,  Thou  art  giving  Thy  spirit 
Freely  to  others  around; 
Like  a  strong  wind  it  is  coming, 
Coming,  with  strange  rushing  sound; 
Filling  them  full  of  Thy  glory — 
Wonderful  glory  and  grace — 
Love,  joy,  peace,  gentleness,  goodness, 
Shining  from  each  happy  face. 


64  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

Lord,  fill  me  now  with  Thy  glory, 
Now,  as  before  Thee  I  bow; 
Come  as  Thou  wilt  to  Thy  temple, 
Only,  dear  Master,  come  now. 
Quickly  the  answer  was  given, 
E'en  while  I  pleaded  in  prayer, 
While  I  awaited  His  coming, 
Suddenly  Jesus  was  there. 

Not  as  the  strong  rushing  whirlwind, 

Not  as  the  bright,  glowing  flame,  . 

But,  as  the  dew,  soft  and  silent, 

Into  His  temple  He  came. 

Came,  as  the  hush  of  the  dawning 

When  night  pales  into  day, 

E'er  the  first  notes  of  the  warblers 

Welcomes  the  sun's  earliest  ray. 

And,  with  that  sweet,  holy  silence, 
Glory  came  down  from  above; 
Cleansed  and  made  pure  was  the  temple 
Filled  with  his  own  perfect  love. 
Lord,  Thou  an  reigning  triumphant, 
Over  my  heart  as  I  sing; 
Oh!  the  sweet  joy  of  Thy  presence, 
Jesus,  my  Savior,  my  King. 

Can  I  do  aught  but  adore  Him  ? 
Can  I  keep  silent  ?    Nay !  nay ! 
Words  fail  to  tell  of  His  goodness, 
Yet  will  I  praise  Him  for  aye. 
Unto  the  King  in  His  beauty, 
Glad  hallelujahs  I'll  raise; 
Worship,  and  glory,  and  honor, 
Give  to  the  Ancient  of  days. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  65 


THE  KING'S  JEWEL. 


is  told  a  story  olden, 
How  the  king  of  all  the  earth, 
Saw  a  gem  of  most  brilliant  beauty, 
Of  untold,  priceless  worth: 
And  He  said,  "  This  beautiful  jewel, 
Is  for  earth  too  bright  and  fair, 
I  will  take  it  for  My  own  kingdom, 
And  will  keep  it  safely  there. 
I  will  take  it  now,  while  'tis  spotless, 
Ere  its  beauty  be  marred  by  a  stain; 
Lest  my  enemy,  ever  watchful, 
My  jewel  should  strive  to  gain." 


But  the  servants,  to  whom  had  been  given 
The  care  of  this  precious  stone, 
Were  filled  with  dismay  and  sorrow, 
When  the  Master  claimed  his  own. 
They  said,  "  We  would  not  withhold  it; 
Tis  Thine  by  a  double  right, 
But  all  too  soon  Thou  hast  taken, 
Our  treasure,  our  jewel  so  bright. 
We  had  hoped  to  cut  and  carve  it, 
To  polish  with  loving  care, 
And,  in  after  years,  dear  Master, 
To  present  Thee  a  gem  more  rare. 


66  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

"  Nay,  "  tenderly  spake  the  Master, 
"  'Tis  a  jewel  too  precious  by  far, 
Your  faithful,  but  unskilled  fingers, 
Perchance  would  its  lustre  mar. 
I  have  purchased  it  for  My  glory, 
With  a  price  exceeding  gold, 
And  I  want  it  now  in  My  palace, 
That  all  may  its  beauty  behold, 
/will  carefully  cut  and  polish, 
Will  grave  with  My  name  the  gem, 
And  with  finest  gold  will  set  it 
In  My  royal  diadem." 


Oh,  stricken  ones,  sorrow-laden, 

Let  the  simple  tale  I  tell, 

Lead  you  nearer  the  blessed  Master, 

Who  still  "  doeth  all  things  well.  " 

In  the  dreary  hours  of  anguish, 

His  presence  alone  can  cheer, 

The  hand  that  now  holds  your  treasure, 

Can  wipe  each  fast  falling  tear. 

He  promises  tenderest  comfort, 

Your  sorrowing  hearts  to  sustain; 

And  beyond,  in  His  palace  glorious, 

He  will  give  you  your  jewel  again. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  67 


HIS  WAY  IS  BEST. 

sing,  "  His  way  is  best," 
When  music  fills  the  air, 
Smooth  and  straight  our  pathway  lies, 
Strewn  with  flowers  sweet  and  fair; 
In  the  bright  and  sunny  days, 
We  acknowledge  all  His  ways, 
And  glad  the  Father  praise, 
His  way  is  best. 

We  say  His  way  is  best, 
When,  with  hearts  so  brave  and  strong, 
We  eagerly  haste  onward, 
Nor  think  the  journey  long; 
When,  His  service  our  delight, 
Waiting  fields  for  harvest  white, 
Seem  to  beckon  and  invite 
His  way  is  best. 

But  can  His  way  be  best, 
When  away  from  this  He  calls, 
And  bids  us  take  a  narrow  path, 
Where  some  dark  shadow  falls  ? 
Can  we  leave  the  brighter  way  ? 
Can  we  praise  Him  as  we  pray 
And  without  a  murmur  say 
"Thy  way  is  best  ?" 


68  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

We  say  His  way  is  best, 
But  we  cannot  understand, 
We  cannot  in  the  darkness 
See  the  guiding  of  His  hand: 
We  shrink  in  sudden  fear 
From  the  pathway  lone  and  drear, 
And  His  voice  we  fail  to  hear: 
"  My  child,  'tis  best." 

We  whisper,  "  Is  it  best, 
That  we  should  turn  aside 
And  walk  where  hidden  dangers  wait 
In  a  darkened  way,  untried  ? " 
Oh,  feeble  faith  and  small! 
Shall  not  the  Lord  of  all, 
Who  heeds  the  sparrow's  fall, 
Know  what  is  best. 

We  say  His  way  is  best, 
But  we  idle  must  remain, 
While  others  gladly  labor 
And  gather  golden  grain; 
Nay:  We  need  not  idly  stand, 
For  e'en  a  trembling  hand 
Seeds  may  scatter  or  the  land: 
He  knoweth  best? 

Thy  way  Oh,  Lord  is  best. 
Oh,  forgive  our  needless  fears, 
We  know  Thy  love  will  lead  us 
Through  all  the  coming  years. 
Lord,  we  clasp  our  hands  in  Thine, 
And  the  darkened  way  shall  shine 
With  a  radiance  all  divine, 
Thy  way  is  best. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  69 


CHOOSING. 

(CHILDREN  have  you  chosen  Jesus? 

Do  you  love  Him  first  and  best  ? 
More  than  father,  more  than  mother, 
Love  Him  more  than  all  the  rest? 

Do  you  always  try  to  please  Him, 
In  your  work  and  in  your  play  ? 
Are  your  hearts  so  glad  and  happy, 
In  His  service  every  day  ? 

When  you  hear  His  name  derided, 
Do  you  that  dear  name  defend  ? 
Do  you  tell  them  gently,  kindly, 
That  the  Savior  is  your  friend  ? 

Choose  Him,  children,  choose  Him  gladly, 
Let  each  heart-door  open  wide, 
And  the  gentle,  loving  Savior, 
Now  will  enter  and  abide. 


7O  THE    MASTER  S    MESSENGER. 

OUR  SUNSET  HOUR. 

(Pacific  Coast  Holiness  Association.} 

JT  is  evening  now;  over  hill  and  vale 

The  cool,  quiet  shadows  of  twilight  fall, 
And  the  setting  sun  with  its  golden  ray, 
Sheds  a  halo  of  glory^over  all. 
'Tis  the  sunset  hour;  on  the  silent  air 
Voices  of  prayer  and  praise  arise, 
For  God's  chosen  ones,  from  far  and  near, 
Have  come  to  the  evening  sacrifice. 

From  the  lofty  Sierra's  snow-capped  hills, 
From  where  orange  groves  perfume  the  air, 
From  the  fertile  plain  with  its  streams  and  rills, 
From  God's  first  temples  so  wondrous  fair, 
From  North  to  South,  from  East  to  West, 
From  crowded  city  and  hamlet  small, 
To  our  loving  Father's  throne  on  high, 
The  incense  of  prayer  ascends  from  all. 

Ah!  many,  to-night,  all  over  the  land 
Are  'besieging  the  throne'  this  quiet  hour; 
Some,  strong  in  the  midst  of  battle  stand, 
Some,  sorely  tried  by  the  tempter's  power. 
But  our  loving  Father,  who  knows  us  all, 
And  what  will  be  best  for  every  one, 
Sends  his  richest  blessings  freely  down 
While  yet  our  petitions  are  scarce  begun. 


THE    MASTERS    MESSENGER.  7! 

Oh,  blessed  hour  of  communion  sweet! 
With  what  holy  joy  do  we  gather  there, 
Our  faith  united,  our  hopes  are  one, 
In  this  beautiful,  twilight  hour  of  prayer. 

"God  bless  our  cause,"  and  unwavering  faith 
Claims  the  blessing  we  ask  in  Jesus'  name; 

"  God  hasten  the  day  when  through  all  the  land 
Salvation  shall  spread  as  a  glowing  flame. 

"  Lord  fill  our  hearts  with  power  divine 
To  do  thy  will  as  angels  do; 
And  grant  that  thy  children  every  one 
•  "May  be  valiant,  faithful,  loyal  and  true. 
God  bless  our  leaders;  may  faith  be  strong, 
As  they  wage  the  fight  'gainst  the  hosts  of  sin, 
And,  Oh,  from  the  throngs  on  the  downward  road, 
May  it  be  their  work  many  souls  to  win. 

"And  may  thy  chosen,  thy  faithful  ones, 
In  the  beauty  of  holiness  praise  Thee  still; 
Serving  Thee  gladly,  day  by  day, 
With  perfect  heart  and  upright  will. 
'Till,  grand  as  the  ocean's  mighty  roll, 
The  saints  below  with  the  saints  above, 
Shall  join  in  a  long  triumphant  song, 
And  the  theme  shall  be,  '  Redeeming  love/  " 


72  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 


THAT  PERFECT  SONG. 

J  HEARD  one  tell  in  language  grand, 

Of  a  w6nderful  scene  in  a  distant  land; 
A  palace  of  crystal  most  grand  and  fair, 
And  many  thousands  were  gathered  there. 
For  the  children  had  come  from  far  and  near, 
And  wondering  throngs  were  there,  to  hear 
Those  bird-like  voices    Five  thousand  strong 
Were  the  children.    And  in  all  that  throng, 
Not  one  before  had  ever  heard 
Of  the  song  they  sang  either  note  or  word. 
The  signal  is  given:  on  the  listening  throng 
Bursts  the  wonderful,  grand,  triumphant  song. 
Now  rising  loud  with  a  pleasing  swell, 
Now  faint  and  low  as  a  distant  bell. 
Enraptured  they  listen;  yet  not  a  sound 
Of  approval  disturbs  the  quiet  profound. 
Again  the  song;  with  strained,  eager  ear, 
They  breathless  wait,  but  they  fail  to  hear 
One  note  of  discord,  one  strain  too  long. 
'Tis  a  grand  success  !     Tis  a  per -feet  song  ! 
In  wondering  silence  they  wait  again 
Till  the  children  finish  the  thrilling  strain, 
Then,  with  one  accord  to  their  feet  they  spring 
And  with  shout  and  cheer  make  the  arches  ring. 
****** 
I  thought  of  another  palace  so  fair, 
And  of  countless  millions  who  gather  there; 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  73 

From  far  and  near  they  too  have  come, 

From  every  land  they  are  gathering  home. 

In  the  midst  of  the  palace  the  'great  white  throne/ 

And  on  it  the  High  and  Holy  One; 

Around  it,  all  radiant,  in  spotless  white, 

Redeemed  ones  so  precious  in  Jesus'  sight. 

All  nations  and  ages  are  gathered  there, 

But  nearest  the  throne  are  the  children  dear; 

A  song  they  sing,  so  sweet  and  clear, 

That  angels  amazed  pause  to  hear 

That  melody  new,  that  theme  so  grand, 

As  it  bursts  from  the  lips  of  the  white-robed  band. 

Unto  Him  who  has  loved  us  all  praise  be  given, 

From  lowest  of  earth  to  highest  of  heaven." 

Through  the  arches  of  heaven  it  rolls  along, 

That  beautiful,  glorious,  pet -feet  song . 

And  down  through  the  sin-polluted  air, 

Comes  an  echo  faint  of  that  music  rare; 

We  catch  a  glimpse  of  that  wondrous  love 

Which  brought  our  Lord  from  the  courts  above, 

To  suffer  and  die  on  the  cruel  tree 

To  purchase  salvation  so  full  and  free. 

With  joy  we  join  the  rapturous  strain, 

And  echo  it  back  to  heaven  again: 

Unto  him,  our  Redeemer  from  sin's  dark  plight, 

Who  has  washed  us  and  made  us  clean  and  white, 

All  glory,  honor  and  praise  be  given, 

By  the  saved  on  earth  and  the  saved  in  heaven." 

And  the  two  songs  blending,  swell  again, 

More  loud  and  clear  than  on  Bethlehem's  plain, 

The  angels1  song  made  the  heavens  ring, 


74  THE    MASTER  S    MESSENGER. 

Proclaiming  the  birth  of  the  infant  King. 
And  onward  still  shall  the  chorus  roll, 
Till  His  glory  shines  from  pole  to  pole; 
Till  every  isle  of  the  boundless  sea 
Shall  be  filled  with  His  wondrous  majesty; 
Then,  as  countless  ages  roll  along, 
All  men  shall  join  in  that  perfect  song. 


THE    MASTERS    MESSENGER.  75 

EXCEEDING  GLAD. 

Matt.  5:  11-12.     (TUNE:  "Btulah  Songs"  Page  35.) 

QH,  ye  who  labor  earnestly, 

Precious  souls  for  God  to  win, 
Who  tell  the  tidings  glorious, 
Of  salvation  from  all  sin. 

CHORUS. 
"  Blessed  are  ye  when  men  revile/' 

Is  the  message  of  your  Lord, 
"  Rejoice  and  be  exceeding  glad, 

For  great  is  your  reward." 

What  though  the  world  in  scorn  deride, 
And  evil  speak  of  you; 
Though  all  men  persecute,  forsake, 
They  hated  Jesus,  too. 

"Exceeding  glad"  well  may  you  be, 
Since  He  your  hearts  doth  fill 
With  peace  and  comfort,  life  and  love, 
And  joy  unspeakable. 

You  know  not  yet  His  "great  reward/' 
Enough  it  is  to  be, 

Cleansed  daily  by  His  precious  blood, 
Rejoicing,  glad  and  free. 

And  when,  in  heavenly  mansions  fair, 
You  meet  your  blessed  Lord, 
Then  from  His  hand  shall  you  receive 
Exceeding  great  reward. 


7 6  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

POMEGRANATES  AND  BELLS. 

(Ex.  28,  33-35.) 

\YHEN  within  the  veil — the  holiest, 

Jewish  high  priest  yearly  went, 
Clad  in  spotless  garments;  bearing 
Sin's  atonement,— bullock's  blood; 
Holy  mitre,  ephod,  breastplate, 
Each  symbolic  meaning  told, 
Holy  robe;  and  neath  its  border, 
Pomegranates  and  bells  of  gold. 

And  without,  the  people,  listening, 
Heard  the  sweet-toned  golden  bell, 
Knew  their  priest  was  interceding, 
Knew  he  lived  and  all  was  well. 
Then  before  the  congregation 
He  appeared;  and  they  behold, 
Pomegranates;  blue,  purple,  scarlet, 
Alternate  with  bells  of  gold. 

We,  a  royal  priesthood,  holy, 
Entered  now  within  the  veil, 
Through  the  sacrifice  once  offered^ 
Jesus'  blood; — it  ne'er  shall  fail; 
Are  our  lips  and  lives  confessing 
All  the  Lord  would  have  us  tell? 
Double  witness — sound  and  service, 
Pomegranate  and  golden  bell. 


THE    MASTER  S    MESSENGER.  77 

Those  without  are  listening,  listening, 

For  our  clear-toned  bells  of  gold, 

Telling  of  the  blood  that  cleanseth, 

Sweetest  story  ever  told. 

Day  by  day  they're  waiting,  watching, 

If  in  us  they  may  behold 

Holy  fruits: — love,  joy,  peace,  meekness; 

Pomegranates  with  bells  of  gold. 

Let  the  bells  ring;  clearly,  sweetly, 
Telling  of  the  blood  applied, 
Of  the  fount  of  perfect  cleansing, 
Opened  when  the  Savior  died. 
And  in  joyous,  willing  service, 
Let  our  lives  the  story  tell, 
That  the  world  in  us  may  witness, 
Pomegranate  and  golden  bell. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 


FROM  SUFFERING  TO  GLORY. 

[In  memory  of  Polly  Keer  Morris;  an  earnest  devoted  Chris- 
tian, who,  after  months  of  intense  suffering,  borne  without  a 
murmur,  passed  peacefully  away,  to  be  with  Jesus,  at  her  home 
in  Chicago,  January  13,  1884.  Of  her  it  may  truly  be  said; 
11  None  knew  her  but  to  love,  none  named  her  but  to  praise."] 

CJEE  the  angel-watchers  bending  o'er  the  patient  suf- 
ferer's bed, 

Where  the  grief-bowed  loved  ones  linger  till  the  last 
faint  word  is  said; 

O'er  the  weary,  wasted  features  spreads  a  halo  all 
divine, 

As  the  glories  of  eternity  upon  her  vision  shine. 

The  breath  comes  faint  and  fainter;  the  heart  throbs 
gently  cease; 

And  o'er  the  pallid  features  rests  His  own  exceeding 
peace. 

The  angel- watchers,  who,  with  joy,  at  His  own  will 
have  come, 

The  liberated  spirit  take  to  bear.it  safely  home. 

Down  through  the  deep  blue  ether,  hear  the  gladsome 

music  swell, 

The  blessed,  heavenly  music  her  spirit  loved  so  well: 
Listen  to  the  angel  chorus,  the  glorious,  thrilling  strain, 
We  only  catch  an  echo  of  that  wondrous  sweet  refrain. 
Now  it  louder  swells  and  clearer  as  they  mount  the 

vaulted  sky 


THE    MASTER  S    MESSENGER.  79 

And  wing  their  way  with  gladness  to  the  Father's  home 

on  high. 
Now  the  strains  come  slower,  sweeter;  they  are  nearing 

heaven's  gate, 
Where   many,  many    loved   ones  in  glad  expectance 

wait. 


Open,  open  gates  of  glory,  throw  your  pearly  portals 
wide, 

That  the  patient,  much-loved  sufferer  now  may  enter 
and  abide; 

Pure  and  white  her  once  soiled  garments,  plunged  be- 
neath the  crimson  flood, 

Naught  of  her  own  merit  pleading,  this  her  passport 
"Jesus'  blood." 

Open,  then,  the  gates  of  glory,  let  the  ransomed  spirit  in, 

To  that  bright  and  glorious  city,  where,  forever  free 
from  sin, 

Free  from  pain  and  care  and  sorrow,  with  angelic  be- 
ings bright, 

She  shall  spend  a  long  eternity  of  infinite  delight. 

See  her  now  as  she  approaches  the  beauteous  "  great 

white  throne;" 
See  the  Savior  as  he  greets  her,  His  well-beloved,  His 

own; 
See  Him  place  the  jeweled  diadem  upon  her  low-bowed 

head, 
And  with  sweet  and  tender  accents  hear  the  words  of 

welcome  said. 


So  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

Now  the  host  of  loved  ones  throng  around,  each  wait- 
ing her  embrace, 

But  first  in  all  that  heavenly  band  she  sees  her  father's 
face. 

Oh!  the  joy,  the  joy  of  meeting  in  that  land  where  fall 
no  tears, 

The  father  she  has  longed  to  see  through  many  weary 
years. 

And  others  press  around  her  with  eager,  out-stretched 

hand, 
Some  very,  very  dear  ones  she  had  known  in  distant 

land; 
Tho'  on  earth  by  ocean  severed,  they  have  walked  the 

same  blest  way, 
And  now  they  meet  in  heaven,  in  the  realms  of  endless 

day. 
And  the  little  ones  are  gathering,  those  faces  bright  and 

sweet, 
All  beam  with  joy  ecstatic  as  their  "  teacher  "  now  they 

greet. 
Though  here  no  children  called  her  by  that  dearest, 

sweetest  name, 
.There  many  precious  little  ones  a  mother's  love  will 

claim. 

Ah,  truly  wrote  a  sainted  one*  in  pleasing,  rhyming- 
spell, 

That  the  beauties  of  our  heaven  no  mortal  tongue  can 
tell. 

*  F.  R.  Havergal. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  81 

We  cannot  view  its  glories,  there  is  a  veil  between, 

And  the  pen  but  faintly  traces  what  the  eye  has  never 
seen. 

Blessed  gleams  of  glory  reach  us  as  we  journey  on  our 
way, 

And  soon  we  too  will  reach  the  gates  that  lead  to  end- 
less day. 

Then,  when  our  earth-born  'sorrows  are  forever  safely 
passed, 

We  shall  see,  not  dimly,  darkly,  but  "  face  to  face  at 
last. 


82  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 


BUSY  HEKE  AND  THEKE. 

I.  Kings  20:40. 

not  heard  the  story  of  old, 
The  son  of  the  prophet,  to  King  Ahab  told  ? 
Of  the  Syrian  captive  left  to  his  care, 
And  while  he  was  busy  here  and  there, 
The  captive  was  gone,  he  knew  not  where . 
And  King  Ahab  answered  when  he  heard  it  all, 
t(  As  thou  hast  spoken,  so  stand  or  fall," 

May  not  the  parable  old  but  true, 
Suggest  a  lesson  to  me  and  to  you  ? 
Chances  for  service,  so  grand  and  so  rare, 
Like  the  Syrian  captive,  are  left  to  our  care, 
But  we  are  so  busy,  just  here  and  there; 
Absorbed  in  earth's  trifles  we're  hurrying  on, 
And  when  we  have  leisure,  the  captive  is  gone. 

Oh,  soldiers  of  Jesus !  shall  we  idly  stand, 

While  sin  and  its  allies  are  still  in  the  land  ? 

Have  we  no  captive  for  Jesus  to-day 

When  Satan  is  leading  so  many  away  ? 

Shall  we  not  win  just  one  while  we  may  ? 

Souls  all  around  us  immortal  and  fair, 

May  be  lost  while  we're  busy  just  here  and  there. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  83 

Oh,  time  is  too  precious  to  fritter  away: 

Life  is  so  short,  it  may  end  with  to-day. 

Christ  calls  for  volunteers  faithful  and  true, 

To  do  with  their  might  whatsoever  they  do; 

To  rescue  the  lost,  be  they  many  or  few. 

In  His  presence,  Christians,  think  you  we'll  dare 

To  say  "  Lord  I  was  busy  just  here  and  there." 

Seek  first  His  kingdom;  may  this  be  our  care, 
To  be  busy  for  Jesus,  just  here  and  there; 
Send  His  glad  message  to  every  land; 
Scatter  the  seed  with  a  bold  fearless  hand; 
Sow  by  all  waters;  ne'er  idly  stand: 
Then  at  his  appearing  a  crown  we  shall  wear, 
If  for  him  we're  busy,  just  here  and  there. 


84  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 


PEAISE. 

the  works  of  God  sing  praises 

To  His  holy  name; 
Shall  not  we,  His  chosen  people 

Gladly  do  the  same  ? 
Praise  Him  ever,  ceasing  never 
All  His  wonders  to  proclaim. 

Listen  to  the  feathered  warblers, 
Loud  their  anthems  raise, 

Making  hill  and  wood  and  valley 
Echo  with  His  praise; 

Ever  singing,  glad  notes  ringing. 

Through  the  happy  summer  days. 

Tiny  flowers  lift  their  petals 

Upwards  to  the  light; 
O'er  them  butterflies,  all  radiant, 

Hover  with  delight. 
Brooklets  dancing,  sunbeams  glancing, 
All  around  is  gay  and  bright. 

Grateful  kine  at  noon  reclining 
'Neath  the  shady  trees, 

And  the  hum  of  busy  insects 
Borne  on  every  breeze; 

God  attending,  condescending, 

Praise  accepts  from  all  of  these. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.        .  85 

Mighty  oceans  sound  His  praises 

As  they  roll  and  swell, 
Snow-crowned  mountains,  pointing  heavenward, 

Of  His  goodness  tell. 
Lightnings  flashing,  torrents  dashing, 
Speak  His  mighty  power  to  quell. 


Rain  and  hail  and  snow  and  vapor, 

All,  His  wonders  show. 
Sun,  moon,  stars,  each  in  its  orbit 

•  At  His  bidding  go. 
All  creation,  in  adoration, 
To  their  Lord  and  Maker  bow. 


Angels  in  the  courts  of  glory, 

Glad  their  homage  bring, 
Heaven's  arches  loud  resounding, 

With  Hosanna's  ring: 
Bow  before  Him  and  adore  Him, 
Worshipping  their  Lord  and  King. 


And  shall  we  most  blest  and  favored, 

Even  silent  be  ? 
Shall  we  raise  no  note  of  gladness, 

Father,  unto  Thee  ? 
While  abounding,  us  surrounding, 
All  Thy  love  and  care  we  see. 


86  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

Let  us  praise  Him  while  we  linger 

From  the  world  apart; 
Chide  not  though  some  glad  one  praise  Him 

In  the  busy  mart: 
Joyous  singing,  to  Him  bringing 
Homage  of  a  grateful  heart. 


Ever  praise  Him,  speak  His  glory, 

Tell  it  round  about; 
Loud  proclaim  His  great  salvation 

E'en  with  song  and  shout. 
Through  the  highways,  and  the  byways, 
Let  the  gladsome  sound  ring  out. 


Yes,  with  loyal  heart  and  loving, 
Praise  Him  everywhere; 

Till,  beyond  life's  lights  and  shadows, 
In  those  mansions  fair, 

Gladsome  praise,  through  endless  days, 

We  with  angel  hosts  shall  share. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  87 


TRUSTING  FOE  WHAT  ? 

VOU  say  you  are  trusting  in  Jesus, 

Trusting  for  what  ? 
For  pardon  and  peace  you're  believing; 

Praise  God  for  that. 
His  forgiveness  and  love  are  so  precious, 

All  this  is  true; 
But  He  who  can  pardon  so  freely, 

Can  sanctify  too . 

You're  trusting  at  last  to  reach  heaven ; 

And  so  you  may, 
If  you  follow  His  Spirit's  guidance 

Day  after  day. 
But  may  not  the  Christian's  heaven 

On  earth  begin  ? 
May  we  not  walk  with  Jesus 

All  free  from  sin  ?  (I  John  i  .7.) 


Will  you  not  trust  Christ  for  cleansing 

This  very  hour  ? 
Think  of  His  wonderful  promise,  (Ezek.  36:25.) 

Doubt  not  His  power. 
He  is  so  gracious  and  loving, 

He  will  fulfill, 
In  you  all  his  good  pleasure 

For  'tis  his  will.  (II.  Thess.  ini.) 


THE    MASTER  S    MESSENGER. 

Jesus  requires  your  whole  service     (Mat.  22 137.) 

Faithful  and  true; 
He  wants  a  complete  consecration     (Rom.  12:1.) 

Naught  else  will  do. 
Just  bring  all  your  treasure  and  lay  it   (Matt.  19:21) 

Down  at  His  feet, 
Then  trusting  will  be  so  easy 

And  rest  so  sweet. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  89 


"CAN  NO  ONE  GO  WITH  ME." 

[The  last  words  of  a  young  girl,  a  Sabbath  School  scholar,  who 
died  suddenly,  without  having  made  any  preparation  for  eternity.  ] 

11  (''AN  no  one  go  with  me?  "  the  way  is  so  dark, 

No  "light  in  the  valley;"  no  comfort;  and  hark! 
I  am  nearing  the  river;  I  hear  the  deep  roll 
Of  its  dark,  swelling  current ;  God  pity  my  soul . 
Oh!  life  is  so  charming;  this  world  is  so  fair; 
Must  I  leave  it  forever?     Oh!  must  I  go,  where 
That  cold  water  waits  me,  those  cruel  waves  toss  ? 
Can  no  one  go  with  me  to  help  me  across  ? 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  had  heard  of  this  terrible  day, 
But  I  was  so  young,  death  seemed  far  away 
And  life  all  before  me.     Light-hearted  and  free 
I  lived  on;  nor  heeded  Death's  warnings  to  me. 
In  the  midst  of  my  pleasure  he  hurls  his  dread  dart; 
I  can  feel  his  cold  fingers  close,  close  to  my  heart; 
I  am  dying,  yes,  dying,  I  know  it  is  true; 
Can  no  one  go  with  me  ?  can  none  help  me  through  ? 

"  Go,  warn  my  companions;  Oh,  let  them  not  come 
To  where  I  now  stand,  on  the  verge  of  the  tomb, 
Looking  out  in  despair  on  the  darkness  and  night, 
With  the  world  and  its  joys  fading  fast  from  my  sight . 
Oh,  tell  them  of  my  sad  mistake  to  beware; 
They  still  have  the  time  for  this  hour  to  prepare; 
While  I  into  darkness  must  go  all  alone] 
There's  none  to  go  with  me,  no,  not  even  one. 


9O  THE    MASTER  S   MESSENGER. 

"  They  tell  me  of  Christ;  that  salvation  is  nigh; 
That  Jesus  has  pardoned  worse  sinners  than  I : 
Not  worse,  I  have  willftjlly  slighted  His  love, 
Have  lived  only  for  self,  not  for  heaven  above. 
Perhaps  He  ivill  hear  my  last  cry  of  despair, 
Perhaps  I  may  enter  those  mansions  so  fair, 
But  now,  as  I  go  through  Death's  valley  so  drear, 
He  does  not  go  with  me  the  pathway  to  cheer." 

Oh,  why  will  the  young  be  so  thoughtless  and  gay, 
When  death  comes  so  soon!  seek  Christ  while  you  may. 
Just  now  He  is  calling,  just  now  hear  His  voice 
So  tender  and  loving.     Oh,  make  Him  your  choice. 
Then,  early  or  late  should  that  last  summons  come, 
There'll  be  light  in  the  darkness,  and  joy  in  the  gloom, 
You  will  not  go  alone  through  the  deep  surging  tide, 
For  Christ  will  be  with  you  to  comfort  and  guide. 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  91 


LEAVE    IT    THERE. 

BURDENED  soul,  weary 

With  thy  care, 

Take  it  all  to  Jesus; 

Leave  it  there. 

Not  alone  great  burdens, 

Will  He  bear, 
E'en  thy  smallest  trials 

He  will  share. 

Though  a  tiny  burden 

It  may  be, 
Yet  it  is  too  heavy 

Far  for  thee. 

Though  'tis  small,  yet  larger 

It  will  grow, 
And  its  weight  increasing 

Bow  thee  low. 

Thou  can'st  never  bear  it 

All  alone, 
Take  it  to  the  Strong 

And  Mighty  One. 

He  will  gladly  carry 

All  thy  care, 
Only  take  it  to  Him, 

Leave  it  there. 


THE    MASTERS    MESSENGER. 

To  this  willing  Saviour 

Often  go. 
Tell  Him  all  thy  sorrow 

And  thy  woe. 

What  would  grieve  thee  sorely 

To  reveal 
To  the  hearts  around  thee, 

He  can  feel. 

He  thy  human  weakness 

Knoweth  best; 
He  would  give  thee,  tired  one, 

Perfect  rest. 

Take  then,  all  thy  trials 

Great  and  small, 
At  the  feet  of  Jesus 

Leave  them  all. 

Take  thy  cares  but  bring  them 

Not  away, 
Leave  them  with  the  Master, 

Day  by  day. 

Each  day  brings  new  trials 

Of  its  own: 
Take  them  all  to  Jesus 

Every  one. 

For  the  many  earth  cares 

That  annoy, 
He  gives  rest  and  quietness, 

Peace  and  joy. 


THE    MASTERS    MESSENGER.  93 


SHILOH. 

"Until  Shiloh  come." — Gen.  49:  10. 

"  Come  unto  Me — I  will  give  you  rest." — Mat.  n:  28. 

"^/"ITH  prophetic  vision  seeing, 
Life  just  ending,  almost  home, 
Hear  the  aged  patriarch  saying, 
"Till  the  promised  Shiloh  come." 

Thou  art  come,  Oh,  blessed  Shiloh, 
Bringing  perfect  peace  and  rest; 
Gathering  Thy  wandering  children, 
From  the  north,  the  east,  the  west. 

From  Judea's  hiHs  and  valleys, 
Echoing  o'er  Gennesaret's  sea, 
We  have  heard  His  loving  summons, 
"  Come  poor,  weary  ones  to  Me." 

We  are  coming,  precious  Savior, 
Weary  now,  by  sin  oppressed, 
Coming  to  the  Fount  for  cleansing, 
Coming  to  Thy  perfect  rest; 

Thou  wilt  cleanse  us,  Thou  hast  promised; 
Thou  will  make  our  hearts  Thy  throne, 
Rule  us  with  Thy  righteous  scepter, 
Keep  us  always,  Thine  alone. 

4» 

Thou  art  cleansing,  Thou  art  blessing, 
As  we  lean  upon  Thy  breast, 
Thou  art  filling  us  with  gladness, 
Thou,  our  Shiloh,  Thou,  our  rest. 


94  THE    MASTER  S    MESSENGER. 

FOLLOW  THOU  ME, 

"What  is  thattothee?     Follow  thouMe"— John  21:  22. 

yOU  who  are  at  ease  in  Zion, 

Living  on  in  careless  pleasure, 
Seeking  of  each  other  honor, 
Grasping  only  earthly  treasure, 
Great  mistakes  you  now  are  making, 
Fearful  risks  your  soul  is  taking, 
What  are  all  these  things  to  thee  ? 
Jesus  says,  "Follow  thou  Me" 

You  are  making  vain  excuses 

Of  what  others  do  and  say, 

Of  the  throngs  who  follow  Mammon, 

Of  the  few  'who  walk  His  way, 

Of  the  hypocrites,  deceivers, 

Of  the  halting,  weak  believers; 

What,  Oh  soul,  is  that  to  thee  ? 

Jesus  says,  "  Follow  thou  Me," 

Follow  Him,  yes,  fully,  wholly, 
Not  with  faltering  steps  and  slow, 
But  with  loving,  loyal  purpose, 
With  your  Master  gladly  go. 
Follow  Him  in  joy  or  sorrow, 
Follow  Him  to-day,  to-morrow, 
This,  Oh  soul,  He  claims  of  thee, 
When  He  calls,  "Follow  thou  Me." 


THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER.  95 

Choose  to  follow  Christ  your  Master, 
Your  discipleship  to  prove, 
In  your  life  of  self-denial, 
In  your  meekness,  patience,  love. 
Follow  through  .Gethsemane's  gloom, 
To  His  cross,  His  death,  His  tomb; 
This  he  will  require  of  thee, 
When  he  bids  thee  ''  Follow  Me." 

Follow  on,  still  closer  pressing 
To  thy  risen  Savior's  side, 
Listening  to  His  faintest  accents, 
In  His  presence  still  abide. 
Follow  Him  while  life  is  given, 
Follow  Him  for  aye  in  heaven. 
This  the  glory  offered  thee, 
In  the  summons  "  Follow  Me." 


96  THE  MASTER'S  MESSENGER. 

HONOEED  OF  THE  LORD. 

"  Them  that  honor  me,  1  will  honor."  —  i   Sam.   2:30. 


N  to  the  Lord  I  humbly  came, 
Claiming,  through  faith  in  Jesus'  name, 
A  perfect  cleansing  from  all  sin 
And  power  to  keep  me  pure  within, 
While  yielding  all  unto  His  will, 
And  clinging  to  His  promise  still, 
His  Spirit  gently  whispered^hen, 
"And  will  you  consecrate  your  pen  ?  " 

Yes,  gladly;  'tis  no  longer  mine, 
My  life,  time,  talents,  all  are  Thine; 
Then  take  my  pen  and  let  it  prove 
To  others  all  Thy  wondrous  love. 
Oh,  grant  that  it  may  ever  trace 
The  glorious  fulness  of  Thy  grace, 
And  *  full  salvation  '  still  proclaim, 
To  those  who  feebly  own  Thy  name. 

Then  the  dear  Lord  on  me  bestowed 
A  gift.     In  rhyming  measures  flowed 
My  thoughts;  and  this  the  pleasing  theme, 
"Christ's  power  so  fully  to  redeem." 
And  so  I  wrote  the  thoughts  He  sent, 
And  quickly  through  the  land  they  went. 
I  now  begin,  though  with  surprise, 
My  childhood  dreams  to  realize. 


THE   MASTER  S   MESSENGER.  97 

Yes,  I  had  wished  an  Author's  fame, 
But,  seeking  for  myself*,  name, 
I  found  it  not.     But  when  alone 
I  sought  His  glory,  not  my  own, 
Oh,  then  He  greatly  honored  me. 
And  so  I  write,  and  hope  to  be, 
A  messenger  for  my  dear  Lord, 
To  tell  in  rhyme  His  precious  word. 

And  now  the  closing  page  is  filled; 
And  gladly  to  my  Lord  I  yield 
This,  my  first  book.     Oh,  may  each  page 
Speak  for  His  glory.     Encourage 
Some  soul  to  seek  the  King's  highway, 
Which  brighter  grows  to  perfect  day. 
This  my  exceeding  great  reward, 
To  lead  souls  nearer  to  the  Lord. 


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